


Ask Me Again in the Morning

by sceawere



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Drunken Professions of Love, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, It's Peaky Blinders, Michael Gray is Grumpy, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Reader-Insert, Swearing, copious swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceawere/pseuds/sceawere
Summary: Polly decides it's time to take Michael's girlfriend out for a night on the town. The aftermath involves sloppy drunkenness and possible marriage proposals.





	Ask Me Again in the Morning

You leaned back against the wall, laughing into your palm as Polly chased off the man who’d whistled at you, screaming at him in the middle of the street.

“-up your arse!”

“Polly!” you warned.

A window opened somewhere in the row of houses and a shout for her to shut up came out, so she turned her head and screamed at them to piss off as well.

“Polly! I think we should get home before a copper catches us, yeah?”

She fluffed her hair out, put her hands on her hips, and laughed along with you. You staggered off the curb to link arms with her and set off across the dark streets together.

When she’d asked you, well actually _told_ you that you were going out together tonight you’d been torn between terror and confusion.

_“Oh, is it a girl’s night?”_

_“That’s right, just you and me. I think it’s past time we got to know each other properly” she'd replied with an unsettling smirk._

When your gangster boyfriend’s imposing mother tells you you’re going out together, you go. Somewhere in between drinking to sooth your nerves you’d actually started enjoying yourself and realised Polly was alright. And Polly seemed to think you were alright too; laughing along with you at Michael’s antics, singing in bars together, screaming at men in the street for you.

It was way past midnight, probably closer to dawn, and you were both shattered but buzzing, ambling along the street together, with your heels in hand.

“You’ll ruin your stockings, love” she crooned, leaning into your side a little.

“Eh, fuck it”

You hadn’t swore in front of Polly before tonight, trying your best to put up a good impression, you knew how much she valued respectability. But now, she threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh, fuck it” she agreed.

She stopped dead in the street and bent to pull off her shoes too. And so you both went, heels in hand, through the streets of Small Heath to the old house.

First, you’d tried to open the wrong door, stopping a house short and nearly snapping the key off in the lock before you realised your mistake. Polly had slammed her hand on the door and shouted a sorry up to the window even though you were sure no one was awake. Before she shouted, at least, they were definitely up now, along with half the street.

When you stuttered along to the right door, you realised you’d been using the wrong key all along and left the right one on the desk behind the locked door.

“Oh, shit” Polly flopped with her back against the door, looking up and down the street.

You rested your head against the cool of the door, the paint slick with dew.

“Fuck it - Michael!” you slammed your hand against the door, making Polly jump out the way and laugh into the wall next to the doorframe.

“Michael!” She joined in with you, slamming her hand in a rhythm against the door, both of you trying to out beat the other, shouting into the space the other left.

A window slid open above you and you stuttered backwards, almost going over the curb until Polly grabbed your arm.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Michael’s voice was thick with sleep and annoyance and he squinted down at you even in the dim light.

“Let us in, Michael” you called.

You raised your arms up to him as if he could pick you up from there, him shaking his head.

“It’s your mother, Michael!” Polly chipped in, too drunk to realise she was in his full view and he shook his head again, wiping his eyes and muttering a ‘fucking hell’.

“Oi, language!” his mother scolded. You scrunched up in laughter, turning into Polly, head buried in her shoulder as she scolded her son.

You heard the scrape of the window frame again and considered for a moment that he might just leave you both there to sleep in the gutter. A few moments later you heard the scratching of the chain lock and knew he was going to let you in after all.

“Get in the house, both of you” he commanded through half gritted teeth.

Polly rolled her lips between her teeth, looking like a teenager caught sneaking in, and the joke of it being her son letting her in made you giggle. He huffed as you passed him and shut the door, re-fixing the multiple locks that protected the den from the outside.

You turned back to place a kiss on his cheek and pull him to you, the alcohol in your veins fuelling a sudden rush of affection.

“I love your mother, Michael, I fucking love her”

A sudden crash broke your moment and you turned to see Polly giggling on the floor, a chair pushed too far away from the table.

You broke out in giggles with her, Michael muttering a curse to himself with your arms still wrapped sloppily around his neck, dragging him around with you.

“Look at the state of the pair of you”

“Oh, Michael don’t be a-oh fuck” Polly had tried to pull herself up unsuccessfully and you released your grip to totter over to her.

“Oh Michael, help, your mother’s fallen and she can’t get up”

“I’m not a fucking invalid, watch your mouth!” she snapped, descending into laughter as she slipped once more.

“Polly, come here, give me your hand”

Michael marched over and moved your arm out of the way, pulling his mum up himself.

“I don’t need to both of you down there”

“Oh Michael, I love your girlfriend. I do, she’s lovely, you should marry her”

You let out a shriek at that and fell back laughing against the table.

“I would-no, listen, I would fully approve of her. I think she’s a lovely girl, and she- no Michael, listen”

Michael was scowling and guiding his mum away from you, to the stairs.

“Goodnight, Polly!” you called.

“Goodnight, sweetheart! Same time next week!”

You waved behind you, not even looking if she was there anymore and slid down from the table to a chair, arms bent like slipping into a pool. Once you’d found yourself safe, you bent over, head in hands, laughing to yourself. At some point footsteps could be heard on the stairs again and hands came to grip your wrists.

“Right, missus, up you come”

“Michael, I love you”

He huffed again, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to the stairs as well.

“I do” you insisted.

“And I love you, though not quite so much right now”

“Oh, spoilsport, you’re no bloody fun” He gave up trying to support you and let you crawl up the steps on your hands and knees, dropping your heels behind you for him to pick up after you.

“Your mum is fun”

He brought a hand up to push at your bum and keep you moving and you shrieked again.

“Don’t go getting any bloody ideas, lady, up you go, come on. I want to get to bed again tonight”

“Oh Mr Gray, trying to get me into bed are we?”

“I’m too fucking sober for this” he groaned, crawling up after you.

You turned to plant your bum on the landing, legs dangling down the steps while you pulled at your stockings.

“Michael, help me” your voice had lost its teasing tone, already forgetting the flirting, and consumed wholly with the task at hand.

“I will once we get to bed, come on” he gestured up behind you.

“No, now, Mikey, please”

You looked up to him, wide eyed as you could, trying to look cute and helpless. He bent to kneel on a step below you, placed your heels carefully next to your hip, and flicked your dress up to mess with your clips with gentle hands. There was nothing flirty in it, purely caring for you, soft and sweet.

“I love you, Michael Gray”

“I love you too”

“Not as much now though” you repeated his earlier words, tone probing.

He smirked at you, rolling the first leg down and tucking it into his pocket for safekeeping.

“I hope my mother wasn’t too much tonight”

“No, she was lovely. I thought she hated me but she doesn’t”

“She thinks it’s her job to protect me”

“It is”

He lost his smirk, and fumbled with the clip on your other leg.

“It sticks, that one, you need to-“, you laid your fingers over his, clumsy but guiding the same.

“She’s never going to forgive herself, you know” you whispered.

You knew about Michael, about everything that had happened. You were friends before you were lovers and he needed someone he could trust to flush out all the shadows. He couldn’t go to confession, like you and Polly did, so he came to you. You didn’t judge him, or promise him absolution, but you’d listened, and cried, and held him close. Somewhere along the way, you’d fallen in love.

“I know”

“She…should. You should”

He didn’t look at you, pocketing the now free stocking along with its match and lifted your shoes again, raising himself slightly on the step.

“Come on, bedtime”

“Ok”

He helped you along the hallway, poking a head into the room where his mother slept to check she was actually in the bed he’d put her in. He dropped your shoes to the rug, lay your stockings on the chair and helped you pull your dress over your head, adding to the pile.

It was chilly in the room and you shrank into yourself until he came back to you, his heat spilling into the air around you. Your forehead found his chest, heart beating into your skin while he got the rest of your clothes off. A shirt was pulled over you and you fussed with your hair, long since fallen from its pins.

“Gimme your socks, Mikey”

He smiled to himself, rooting out a pair of socks from the drawer and placing a hand against your stomach, easing you back to the bed. Once your legs found the stopping point, you flopped back and he set to work clothing your chilly toes again.

“I love you Mikey”

“You’re loving when you’re drunk”

“I love you all the time, I mean it”

He crawled up over you and you realised once he was over you that it was his shirt you were wearing. He met your mouth with a shallow kiss, light but full of meaning and your eyelids fluttered against the breath that fanned over you.

“I love you, too”

You hummed into the warmth, snuggling back against the sheets as Michael fell to his side next to you, shuffling the blankets around from where he’d flung them back.

You found a haven in the bay of his body, tucked up close, fingers splayed over warm skin, skin drinking in tingling breath.

“I love your mother, Michael”

His jaw rubbed against the crown of your head, hand rolling over the skin of your side.

“I think she loves you too”

“She wants you to marry me”

“Do you want to marry me?”

You laughed against his skin, tracing the plain with your lips.

“Ask me again in the morning”


End file.
